


Worth Fighting For

by 0The_Girl_In_The_Back0



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Friendship, Memory flashbacks, Other, Royalty AU, dream team, very very loosely using events of the dream smp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0The_Girl_In_The_Back0/pseuds/0The_Girl_In_The_Back0
Summary: George is the crown prince.Clay is the kingdom’s most revered warrior.Nick is the king’s personal spy.As rebels start to brew a revolution for land they wish to name L’Manburg, the three boys are split to perform their duties. But when one of them gets kidnapped, the other two must rise from their stations to save him—and the entire country.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> There will be no dnf here, this will be pure dream team friendship. Also, the prologue is super short, but chapters will be much longer! Thank you for reading :)

“George, we have to tell him! We can’t keep him in the dark forever. He will be coronated in two years time and he deserves to learn the truth.”

“i’ve heard enough of this. I will tell him when I deem the time to be right. Until then—“ The king was interrupted by a messenger bursting through the door.

“Sire! Sire! We have received news!” He all but shoves the scroll in George’s hands.

“So the rumors are true...” His wife sidled up beside him, hand coming to rest on his arm.

“George, please...”

“He will learn eventually, Julianne. For now, let him rest. He’ll have a war to fight soon.”


	2. Chapter One

George was bored. Very bored. At twenty-one years of age, he had reached the peak of existence—for the time being. His coronation was two years away—which meant he had two years to relearn everything he had ever been taught as a child, just to make sure he remembered it all. it also meant he had to learn current events—from the brewing rebellion on the outskirts of the kingdom to the economics of countries halfway across the world. So, yeah. He was bored.

His mind drifted off from the lecture of the monotoned-voice instructor, landing on his best friends. Clay—hardheaded hero of the kingdom he is—was off on a mission to save a village from a raid, something that may take a few weeks. And Nick, ever the spy, was out on a mission in a nearby city. Which left George, crown prince of  
Eretentia, alone to fend for himself.

“Your highness!” He jumped when the instructor slammed his pointing stick—apparently it was a cane, but he used it to point more than walk—on the table before him. “Pay attention! This is important.”

“Sir, all due respect, but I’ve known the history of the kingdom since I was six.” He huffed a laugh. “I could probably teach the material by now.”

“Oh really?” He narrowed his eyes, and George knew he made a mistake. “Then you wouldn’t have any trouble teaching it to me?”

He had two options—accept the proposition and make a fool of himself somehow, or form some sort of excuse and hope he could get out of it without having to write three roles of parchment on the War of the Discs. So, like the idiot he was, he rose from his seat and snatched the cane from the instructor.

“No problem at all. Have a seat, if you will.”

———

_“Clay! That hurt!”_

_“You should have blocked, then!”_

_George peeked out his window. He had been attempting to read the law of the land for hours now—the interactions of the castle staff were much more entertaining. He found the source of the shouting match that was brewing in two boys his age—one blonde, wooden sword in his hand being used to gesture to the brown-haired boy with the shield on his arm. The seemed to be play fighting—something he rarely got to do. Even though they were arguing, it was clear to George that they were close friends._

_Before he could stop himself, he began making his way to the courtyard. The two boys didn’t notice, the blonde just continued to make moves to the brunette one, which were mostly dodged with the shield. He slowly approached, trying to form an opening in his mind, until he tripped on his own feet and slammed onto the ground._

_“Oof!”_

_“Sire!”_

_“Your majesty!”_

_The three boys shouted in sync, and the two friends rushed forward to help the crown prince up._

———

Nick inwardly groaned. He’s been trying to get information out of this woman for hours—either she was really this stupid, or she was a master at manipulation. It didn’t help that he was still exhausted from the traveling—he had to all but sneak here, trading horses and bartering for wagons in a trip that took almost two weeks instead of the normal one. And the woman before him supposedly knew who he needed to speak to about the order of swords and shields that mysteriously went missing.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Her voice was soothingly soft, and it made his eyes move from the wall across from them to her face.

“My apologies, my lady. I just remembered I have some business across town. Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow?” His lips quirked and his head tilted in a way he knew would drive her crazy.

“You’re leaving already? Oh, I suppose that’s for the best—My father sent a letter earlier that he has a surprise for me, apparently we received a new shipment of gowns from the Badlands!” She squealed, a stark contrast to the velvety tones she had been hypnotizing him with.

“Gowns? I have a dear sister who would love nothing more than to get gowns from the Badlands...Do you happen to know who your curator is?” It was a long shot, but her father was high up in town officials, and he had an inkling he had interest in more than just dresses.

“i believe my father said his name once...ohh, what was it...I think the last name was Soot?”

“Soot? Was the first name Wilbur?” His heart began racing—he might have a lead.

“Yes! Yes, Wilbur Soot. He really picks the most wonderful dresses—and last week he sent tell of a possible new sword for father. His is years old, you know—some of the rubies and sapphires are gone from the hilt! It’s sad, really...” She sighed like it was truly a crime, which confirmed his suspicions that she really was as idiotic as she seemed.

“Thank you, my lady. Shall I see you tomorrow?” When she agreed, they set a time and a place. Guilt flipped his stomach, because he knew he would not be meeting with her tomorrow—he would be on his way back to the castle.

———

_Nick knocked on George’s door, lip tugged between his teeth. He didn’t want to be here, he especially didn’t want to be nervous, but he knew he had no choice. He was out of options. The thick wooden door was pulled open before him, though he was confused when he didn’t see the brown eyes of one of his closest friends. Rather, he was greeted by the green ones of his other best friend._

_“Clay? What are you doing here?”_

_“I could ask you the same question. Come on, get in here.” He held the door open for him, and Nick made his way over to George’s seating area, choosing to sit across from the brunette._

_“You first.”_

_“Clay agreed to tutor me on my writing—Father says I can never be a king with my ‘barbaric grammar and treacherous prose.’” George answered, setting his quill down._

_“What about you?” Clay asked—they had been friends since they were babies, and Nick knew he could detect the anxiousness in his eyes._

_“It’s not that big of a deal—or, I guess it is. I just...” He fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Could you...George, could you give me a list of, uh...discreet warriors...I could maybe hire to take care of something for me?”_

_“Is that some roundabout way of saying you want my father’s personal list of assassins?” George’s voice was monotone, which made Nick’s stomach sink—he knew it was a long shot._

_“I...I guess, yeah.” He shook his head and went to stand. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid, I’ll figure it out—“_

_“What’s wrong, Sap?” Clay’s voice was soft, and the use of the childhood nickname broke him. Tears fell from his eyes before he could stop them, and he lost control of his mouth as he told them why he needed that list._

_“It’s okay, Sap. We’ll Figure it out. Together.” George said, before he and Clay pulled him into a hug._

———

“Come on, come on...” his words escaped his mouth in a vapor of cold air, and he rubbed his hands together to return warmth in them.

He had been in this village—a generous word for the collection of buildings clustered around one another—for three days, protecting them from a raid that seemed like it would never end. He was running low on food, and his only arrows left came from the quivers he stole off of the enemies he slayed. He was waiting for the captain to arrive—which could take days if it even happened at all. With the captain, he could begin to get answers on who exactly had sent a fleet of soldiers to attack a small, desolate town.

“Stay inside, you idiot...” he muttered, eyes tracking the villager running down the street.

The sound of a war horn rung again from across the hill, and he kept his eyes peeled for the tell-tale uniform of their leader. He picked off soldier after soldier, the thread of his crossbow digging into his fingers with every arrow he loaded. It seemed like hours before he saw the vibrant crimson coat and gold-lined trousers. He all but hacked through the few soldiers there were left, body aching with every movement—he really deserved a long rest and a hot bath.

“Ah,so you’re the one who’s been causing me so much trouble.” The captain called from the distance between them. Clay knew this was too easy—he had a clear path to the captain, no soldiers ready to protect him—but he was simply too exhausted to care. “I wondered who it would be. I should have expected you.”

“I don’t think anybody expects me, Captain.” He knew it was arrogant, but arrogance was how he worked. “So who sent you and this army? We have an alliance with the Badlands, so probably not them, and L’Manburg is nothing but a bunch of petulant children trying to start a fight.”

“I don’t think it quite matters who sent me—you won’t be alive long to tell anyone.”

Clay only had enough time to see him smile before arrows—more than he could count—began raining down on him and the entire village. Over the crest of the hill, monstrous beasts charged towards him. As tired as he was, he did not want to take any chances with the horns that were thicker than his thigh and sharper than his sword.

“What the f—“ The captain surged forward, knocking him off his feet, and clay felt like lady luck had betrayed him, because his head smashed against a rock and knocked him out.

———

_“We’ll sneak out through my window!” Clay thought this was a great idea—they were old enough to handle themselves, and they wanted nothing more than to go to the local Sword Faire and compete._

_“How will I get there? Ever since we got that threat, they’ve been stationing ten guards around my room at all times.” George flopped back onto his bed, groaning._

_“How princely,” Nick snorted._

_“Shut up.”_

_“Just tell your parents you’re spending the night with me. Come up with an excuse about training or something.”_

_“That’s the worst excuse ever. Why do you even need one? We’ve been friends since we were five, it’s about time you spend the night with us.” Nick rolled his eyes._

_“We’re not actually spending the night, Nick. We’re leaving by sunrise.”_

_“I mean to your parents, genius. Why would they suspect anything? They’d probably be excited you’re finally getting out of your room for something other than royal duties.”_

_“Fine—I’ll try. If they say yes, I’ll get here by nightfall.”_


End file.
